


this definitely goes on the good date list

by amazingsantiago



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Humour
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-19
Updated: 2019-04-19
Packaged: 2020-01-16 14:20:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18523306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amazingsantiago/pseuds/amazingsantiago
Summary: inspired by a kiss prompt from tumblr: a short and sweet kiss after meeting up for a date





	this definitely goes on the good date list

**Jake Peralta, sent 7.15 pm: meet me in break room in 5, got a surprise for you**

**Amy Santiago, sent 7.16 pm: Is it important, babe? I’m really busy.**

**Jake Peralta, sent 7.16 pm: it’s life or death**

Reluctantly, Amy abandons the stack of paperwork on her desk higher than the Empire State and weaves her way through the maze of desks currently taking up most of the bullpen. Her head is pounding, her eyes ache (she forgot to put in her damn contact lenses this morning and hasn’t worn her glasses this long in  _years_ ) and there’s that familiar tightness in her chest that signals a panic attack is coming. She loves being a sergeant and she loves the extra work, but sometimes it just gets too much and she has to escape to the roof for a cigarette and a good cry. She still has a ton to do before she can even think about going home and doesn’t have time for any of Jake’s silly surprises. She’s about to tell him this when she finally reaches the break room and her mouth forms a small “oh”.

The room has been totally transformed.

The table has been decorated with a tablecloth, a floral centrepiece and candles. There are candles everywhere, actually. Jake stands in the middle of the room, his arms spread eagle. “What do you think?”

“It’s beautiful,” she says, impressed he managed to hide the unknown stain on the sofa with a throw she recognises from their living room. “Very romantic.”

“Well, I’m a very romantic man, Ames.”

“Yes, you are. I’m very lucky,” she agrees. Sometimes she can’t believe this is the same man who once took a girl on a date to a vending machine. Ever since they got together, and  _especially_  since they got married, he has really stepped up his romance game. She called him out on it a few weeks ago when he brought her flowers home from work just because, claiming that it obviously took falling in love with his dream girl to bring out the dreamy, romantic side of him. Amy practically melted.

Suddenly remembering the huge workload she has to complete before Captain Holt gets gets mad and fires her, she bites her lip. They need to hurry this along. “Not that I don’t love this, babe, but I really have a lot of work to do-.”

“I already asked Captain Holt to steal you for the evening and he agreed that you need a break. You’re not going to ignore Captain’s orders, are you?” He smirks and she curses him for knowing her so well.

“Fine,” she sighs. “I’ll take a quick break, but after that-.”

“Back to work,” he finishes. “Got it.” He walks towards her, wraps his arms around her and gives her a short, sweet peck on the lips. “I’ll take what I can get.”

He guides her to the table, pulls out her chair for her with a flourishing arm and his signature “ _m’lady_ ” that she’s always found adorable. She sits down and he reveals a pizza under a silver cloche she suspects he borrowed from Charles. He sits down next to her and looks rightfully proud of himself; this definitely goes on the Good Date List (which at this point is all Jake).

They drink wine and chat and Jake gives her leg a squeeze when she regales her terrible day and they may exchange a few more kisses, Amy’s “no PDA at work rule” be damned (the bullpen is mostly empty, she’s had a glass and a half of wine and her husband is just so kissable, who can blame her?). Jake even treats her to a chocolate bar from the vending machine because he hasn’t changed that much.

“I’ll give you your real dessert at home,” he says with a wink.

Amy rolls her eyes at him. “You’re such a goofball.”

“A goofball you married,” he points out.

“And I’m glad I did.” She leans in for another kiss, but her alarm ruins the moment.

“Of course you set an alarm so our date wouldn’t run on too long,” Jake rolls  _his_  eyes. “You are so consistent.”

“I’m a sergeant now! I have responsibilities!”

“I know you do. Tell you what, I’ll help you with your paperwork. It’ll go quicker if there’s two of us doing it.”

Amy stares at him doubtfully. “You’re terrible at paperwork.”

“I am not!” He cries, affronted.

“I love you more than anything, honey, but paperwork is not your strong suit. It’ll take me twice as long because I’ll have to fix your mistakes.”

“I promise it will be perfect.” He spits in his hand and holds it out for her to shake.

Her face crumples up in disgust. Her husband has the maturity level of her eight year old nephew. “Come on,” she says, pushing open the door to the bullpen and making her way back to her desk. She can feel Jake’s gaze on her butt (“I love the view”) and adds a little sway to her hips, just for motivating purposes so he’ll help her finish the paperwork quicker of course. It’s purely professional.

They obviously end up having a bet to see who can finish the paperwork first, Captain Holt’s “childish, distracting marriage” prediction being proved right in the middle of the bullpen.

Amy wins, but Jake disputes the result all the way home. When they’re finally in the privacy of their own apartment, Amy kisses him hard - partly for his amazing surprise (he really is getting so much better at them), partly for helping her with the paperwork (he was right, it did go quicker with two people) and partly to shut him up about losing their bet (she won fair and square and definitely did  _not_ sneak an extra two files onto his pile when he wasn’t looking).

And after shuffling into their bedroom, Amy finally gets her much anticipated dessert.

**Author's Note:**

> let me know what you think!


End file.
